Page 137 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

His watcher in the dark snarls at him before vanishing into the trees.

Red gives the parchment another look before lifting his eyes to meet mine. “You know… I would have made this without a trade. It’s for my queen, is it?”

I nod slowly.

His eyes soften before they become unreadable.

“Come with me. We need good wood for this thing. The best.” He makes his way in a measured pace towards the road that leads to Windhaven’s central market. I have time to kill, so I trail behind the bastard silently.

Fine shops, galleries, and eateries line the street of Alaeris. Trees along the street have been sculpted to form a shaded archway over the path. Several patrolling guards in enameled armor take notice of my presence, their frown easing when they glimpse Red by my side.

Alaeris is bustling like any other market I’ve been to in the continent. Except the elves use gold and silver here, a stark contrast from the market in Avalon and Myrkeim. The fae, dwarves, and orcs have their own currencies, but they value deal exchange more than anything.

A smile kicks up the corner of my mouth when I recall the sneaky elven girl who tried to make a deal with me last week like a fae.

Fuck, it’s barely noon and I miss her already. I wish I could spend the day with Nel instead of Red. I smother the painfulhunger in my chest and focus on the sights, sounds, and smells around me.

I do enjoy the controlled calm in the elven shopping district. There are no merchants calling to passersby to barter, no vendors trying to make a shady bargain with their customers, no revelers and performers attempting dangerous acrobatics to show off their skills, no singing minstrels. People move and clear a path for us to tread down the street.

“Will you chill the fuck out? You’re scaring everyone,” Red mutters, sounding a little exasperated.

I have been trying,I almost bite back.

I swear to the devil that I have tried for the past week, masking my presence and essence the way Bas did to fit with humankind. It’s about as awkward as a wolf trying to blend in with a herd of sheep.

At least, it was good enough for the Lord of this city to tell Rhianelle that he allowed me to move around freely now. Not that I ever cared or needed his permission. But Nel was so happy with the development. The overjoyed look on her face when she broke the news to me… I’ve decided I want to see more of it.

Red guides me down the road past the upper-class part of town towards the riverfront, where hawkers and traveling merchants line the barracks along the harbor.

“Sweet Kvatosh!” he yelps in disbelief before lurching towards the alley’s end without waiting for me.

I eventually catch up with the knight and the traveling trader that caught his attention.

My focus is immediately drawn to the seller instead of her goods. Her wrinkled skin reminds me of a dried prune and her eyes and hair are silver with age. She must at least be a century old. I order myself not to stare. It is rare to find another human in elven territory. Aelfheim is more closed off compared to thefae and orcs who often took mortal mates from the human realm.

She waves her hand over the bottles of potions and ornaments on the cart in front of her. “Come and have a look, young man.”

I scoff in my head at the idea of this woman calling me a young man. I am older than her grandfather.

Red braces both hands on the wooden wagon. “I need nothing here but your coach.”

The old lady pauses as if the request is not only irrelevant but impertinent.

“I give you three bags of gold for it,” he says with an easy grin.

She weighs his offering with skepticism on her face. I do the same thing. I know nothing of the value of currency in their kingdom, but if I wasn’t fully certain that Red is an idiot before, I am now. He’s overpaying her for a tree we can find anywhere.

“It’s not for sale,” the old lady says flatly. There is something mysterious and secretive about her that I can’t quite put a finger on.

“Everything has a price. Name yours,” the knight insists.

The woman shakes her head. “You can’t pay my price.”

I can’t tell if she is trying to haggle to hike up the value of her wagon or if she really doesn’t want him to have the old thing.

“Whatever it is, I’ll pay it,” Red urges.

A wisp of amusement fills me as I watch him being swindled by the peddler. It hardly offers the same entertainment as killing him, but this will have to do. Perhaps this is just karmic justice, a way for the universe to pay him back for all his fuckery.